When Right And Wrong Collide
by FallinInReverse
Summary: Sam and Dean had a spell cast on them on a witch hunt. It took 3 days for it to effect them, and when it did, everything between them vanished. EVVERRYYTHIIING. When it was all said and done, Cas tells Dean that the feelings had to have been mutual, or the spell wouldn't have worked. Did Sam love Dean as more than a brother? Or was the angel just trying to make him feel better?
1. Chapter 1

_**When Right and Wrong Collide**_

 **Summary:**

Sam and Dean had been out hunting a coven of witches when one of them cast a spell on them. It took three days for it to affect them, and when it did, every barrier between them vanished. Every. Single. One. When it was all said and done, Castiel tells Dean that the feelings had to have been mutual, or the spell wouldn't have worked. Did Sam love Dean as more than a brother? Or was the angel just trying to make him feel better?

Everything was silent, too silent, as Sam and Dean crept through the house that had formerly housed a coven of witches. This particular coven had been the biggest that the two brothers had ever seen before, topping at thirty-seven witches. It was almost like they'd been trying to make a community, something that Sam and Dean might have believed, if they hadn't been summoning demons and shoving them into the bodies of little kids. The two men had spent most of the night hunting these witches, and now there was only one left: the leader. The only problem was that she'd literally vanished when Sam took a swing at her, and now the brothers were slowly making their way up the stairs, trying not to make them creak as they crept up them.

A soft thump and a series of shuffling noises sounded above them, securing their theory that the witch was still in the house. They quietly made their way down the hallway to the only closed door at the very end, and Sam shifted to the left, hand hovering over the knob as he waited for Dean's signal. Dean hoisted his gun a little higher, tightening his grip before giving his brother the teeniest of nods. Sam returned it, then flung open the door. The witch whirled around, gasping in shock and fear, as the brothers stormed into the room, guns trained on her. She flung her hands out, palms forward, and threw the boys against the wall. Sam was back on his feet instantly, palming a throwing knife, and sending it spiraling through the air. Unable to dodge completely, the dagger embedded itself into the witch's right shoulder. She shrieked in pain as she flicked her good arm to the left, tossing Sam at Dean, who had just managed to untangle himself from the cable cords he'd been thrown into, knocking them both to the ground. As they started to rise again, the witch saw that she may not make it out of this house alive, so she began to chant. If she was going to die today, then she was at least going to be remembered.

"Odium inimici mei, carmine vocat hanc. Evasione mea, iures postulo portae inferi. Fac amore familia rubigo, et torquent eam in negari libido!" She cried out, latin pouring from her lips in an unstoppable tide. Dean whipped up his gun and fired, striking the witch directly through the mouth, the single bullet burning a hole in the wall behind her.

But he was too late.

Red mist pulsed from the floorboards, seeping from the walls, and leaking from the air vents. It flooded the room in the blink of an eye, and wrapped itself around the boys. Sam and Dean coughed and choked on it as it forced itself past their lips and down their throats. Once the boys had swallowed all of the mist, their violent hacking finally stopped. They raised their heads and stared at each other in confusion and fear. Finally, Sam murmured to Dean softly, "What was that?"

Dean shook his head, examining his hands as he flipped them back and forth. "I don't know, Sammy. I-I don't feel any different; I don't feel like I'm on the verge of death. What about you? You feel any different?" He looked up to find Sam shaking his head.

"Huh. Well, I guess there's nothing we can do now accept go back to the motel, and wait it out. See if we start shifting into creepy aliens or switch bodies or something. If it's anything too bad, we'll just call Cas to come fix us." Dean grinned, standing up.

"Right."

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The first night after the strange incident with the red mist, nothing happened. The second night after, both brothers began to feel a little itchy, like they'd been in the sun too long, whenever they accidently brushed against each other, or if one stood near the other for too long. But it was on the third night when Sam and Dean realized just what kind of spell the witch had cast on them. Sam had been laying on the motel bed, arm flung over his eyes, when he suddenly jerked upright, startling Dean, who was looking for a new case on the bed next to him. Dean gave him a funny look when Sam just sat there staring at his hands.

"You, uh, you okay there, Sammy? You feelin' alright?"

"No." Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No, I'm not. My insides feel like they're melting, but my skin feels like I've dunked myself in ice."

Dean clicked the laptop closed, setting it down on the bed before walking over to kneel in front of his baby brother. He reached out to touch his hand, only to yank it back when Sam let out a small hiss. Dean hesitated for a moment before standing. "Sam. Sam, look at me; I want you to look at me."

Sam shook his head. "Sam." Dean growled, sending shivers up the brunette's spine. "Look. At. Me."

Finally, slowly, very slowly, Sam tilted his head back. "Open your goddamn eyes, Sammy, and look at me."

Sam bit his bottom lip, and slowly slid his eyes open. Dean stared at his brother in shock. Sam's eyes were a deep brown with bright green flecks, and while Sam's always hated them, Dean found them beautiful. His eyes now were still that same stunning color, but now they had a ring of bright scarlet around the irises.

"Sam-"

"Dean-"

"Your eyes." They said at the same time.

"My eyes, Sammy? Your eyes have-",

"A ring of red around them? So do yours." Sam said, cutting his brother off.

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, the tension in the room nearly tangible. Sam noticed Dean's shoulders tensing up, like they do whenever he's trying to control himself.

"Dean?" Sam asked, standing. "What's wrong?" He made the mistake of touching Dean's shoulder, and the tension in the room snapped like a rubber band.

So did Dean's self-control.

The oldest Winchester threw his brother onto the bed, and was on him in a second, straddling his hips and pushing the heel of his palms into his shoulders as he leaned down to kiss him fiercely. Sam moaned into it, even though part of his mind told him this was wrong, albeit a very rapidly shrinking part. Still, he had to _try_ and talk some sense into his brother.

"Dean." He gasped, when Dean moved to kiss down his jaw and neck. "Dean, you have to-oh. You h-have, ngh, to stop."

"Stop?" Dean laughed. "You really want me to stop? What do you want me to stop exactly? This?" Dean ground his hips down roughly, causing Sam to grip his brother's shoulders hard, and give a soft moan. "Or maybe it's this you want me to stop." He reached under Sam's shirt and gently raked his nails down his ribs, silently enjoying the way his brother's back arched against him. "It might even be this." Large hands slid down lean muscle to grip Sam ass tightly, and slowly grind his hips in small circles. "Tell me, Sammy. Do you really want me to stop?"

"No!" Sam cried out, the logical part of him drowned out by how much he needs this, needs Dean. "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop!"

Dean grinned. "Well, since you asked so nicely…" He lunged forward to smash his mouth to Sam's, drinking in the loud moans he was given as they pushed and pulled at the other's clothing. Somehow, someway, they managed to take off each other's shirts, and Dean was running his palms over his baby brother's chest, marveling over his lithe form. Light brushes of his mouth over sensitive places made the gorgeous body beneath him quiver and shake in the most delicious way.

Dean was going to take his time, oh yes. He was going to take his time and explore every inch of his little brother's gorgeous form. By the time Dean actually gets to the sex part of tonight, he'll already have Sammy begging and panting, falling apart beneath him. He'll know of every sensitive spot on his body, what he likes, what makes him writhe and moan. What makes him scream. Oh, yes. Dean was going to enjoy himself tonight.

Because Sam was his. Sam had always been his.

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Sam shivered at the feeling of Dean's mouth smoothing over the back of his neck, of his teeth biting down hard enough to leave a bruise, of his tongue licking over said bruise. Sam had to admit, he was a little surprised by Dean. He expected his brother to be rough in bed, to get straight to it, but he wasn't, and he didn't, and Sam _loved it_. He loved this soft side of Dean that he didn't get to see all that often. It made him feel loved and cherished, and with everything they did, how often they moved, it was nice to feel this way once in a while.

"Dean." Sam breathed as Dean slowly pressed tender kisses along his throat, his head tilting back to give his brother access to more skin. "Dean, please."

Dean brought his head up, a smug smile on his face at the small whine Sam gave when he'd pulled away. "Yes, Sam? What is it, baby?"

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed, unsure of how to put his incredibly jumbled, hazy thoughts into words. "Dean, I-please…"

The dark, velvety laugh above him made the brunette arch his back, his body craving contact. A soft sigh escaped him when warm lips humored him and began kissing him softly. "Please, Dean. I need you. I-I want you. Please."

"Mmm." He mused against the other's lips. "Tell me. What you want from me exactly?"

Frustration welled up inside the brunette, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he decided to demonstrate what he wanted. Propping himself up onto his forearms, he lifted his right leg and wrapped it around Dean's waist, pulling his brother ever closer. He rotated his hips against Dean's, rubbing their erections together with nowhere near enough friction that either of them craved. It was slowly beginning to drive Sam mad, and he fervently hoped that it was affecting Dean too, so he would take over. Sam let his head fall back, closing his eyes, and adding a little more pressure. His heart sped up when he heard Dean groan low.

"I want this, Dean. I want you, and I want you-", he cut off to place his hands against his brother's shoulders and, using his leg as leverage, flipped them around so that he was on top, straddling Dean's waist. He shifted his weight so that he sat down on his older brother's erection, gasping out a moan at the feeling. He unconsciously ground down against it, his head tossed back. "-here." He breathed out.

"Holy son of a bitch, Sammy." Dean growled breathlessly. Seeing his baby brother do something that sexy had done more than just take his breath away; he might've gotten harder. "You trying to kill me?"

Sam didn't answer, too lost in the feeling of Dean against where he needed him most. Dean finally gave in when he saw the look of pleasure on Sammy's face; he hooked his index fingers inside his jeans, tugging slightly. "Off, off, off." He demanded impatiently. Sam immediately lifted his hips, so Dean could sweep off the last of their clothes. Dean started to reach toward the motel nightstand, only to have Sam stop him. He shook his head. "It's not needed."

He was about to ask what he meant when he was all of sudden enveloped in warmth almost too hot. Dean gasped and fell back onto the motel bed, his hips instinctively thrusting upward, and drawing a mewl from his baby brother. "Fuck, Sam." He groaned. "Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. Should've done this years ago." He did an experimental bump-and-grind thrust, and was rewarded with his name keened softly. "Dean. Oh god, please, Dean."

The older Winchester rolled them gently, so that Sam was cradled underneath him. "Don't worry, baby. I've got you." He pulled out slowly, and pushed in slightly faster, all the while watching his brother's face. Sam was in complete bliss. With every partner his brother had, he just assumed that sex with him would be fast and hard, but Sam couldn't have been more wrong. When it came to him, Dean didn't fuck. Dean made love. And it was perfect.

Both men shut out everything around them, except for themselves, as their bodies fit together so perfectly. Dean gently took Sam's hands in his, lacing their fingers together and placing them on the bed by his head. Their bodies moved in sync, a sacred dance of giving and taking, their bodies not the only part of them becoming one, but their hearts and souls too. Dean watched his baby brother with half lidded eyes, as Sam's back arched delicately, his long, long legs wrapping around Dean's waist and tangling with his own. The soft, sweet sounds that he was making were being slotted away, so that Dean could remember them later when they both woke up. Even though the hazy red lust clouding his vision had long since vanished, he wasn't sure how his sweet little Sammy would react to this. He'd been in love with his little brother since Sam was eight, and he was twelve. It was the year Sam had saved him from that werewolf. That had been twenty-two years ago.

He buried his face in his Sammy's neck, breathing in the sweet smell of his skin, as their sweat slicked bodies began to reach their limits. "God, Sammy. My Sammy. You're so beautiful." Sam let out a soft moan, lifting his leg higher around Dean's torso to pull him further on top of him.

"Dean. Dean." He breathed against his cheek.

"What is it, baby? What is it?" Dean purred softly against his throat.

"I-I'm…I can't…" Dean nodded in understanding.

"Me too, baby, me too. I'm close." He shifted slightly, pressing their interlocked hands above Sam's head, as he began to move faster. Sammy's quiet moans turned into soft pants as they drew closer and closer to the edge.

"Dean, I-Dean." Sam panted.

Dean pulled back just enough to look Sam in the eyes. Taking a deep breath for courage, he finally voiced those feelings that he's been nursing for twenty-two years. "Sammy…Sammy, I-I love you."

It was enough. Sam arched his spine, threw back his head, and cried out in pure, complete bliss as he came. With the feeling of Sam clenching around him, Dean couldn't hold on any longer, his passion and love exploding from his body like a bolt of lightning. Both brothers collapsed onto the bed, and fell asleep immediately.

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When Dean woke up, Sam was gone, and Castiel sat in his place, staring at the bathroom door in that intense, brooding way of his. The green eyed male sighed sadly, and curled deeper into his pillow, trying to ignore the horrible, aching pain in chest. The two stayed that way for a few more minutes before the angel spoke. "The feelings must have been mutual." He rumbled.

"What?" Dean asked into the pillow.

"The feelings must have been mutual." He repeated, still staring at the bathroom door. "That is the only way for the spell to have worked."

Dean blinked up at the angel in confusion, though a small bubble of hope filled his chest. "What do you mean?"

Castiel turned to him and said, "The spell cast was a lust spell, but the only way for it to work is for the two of you to have the same kind of feelings for each other, something other than familial love."

That little bubble of hope expanded almost painfully in his chest. "So, what you're saying is that Sam had to love me as something _more_ than a brother for that red mist to work?"

The angel nodded. "That is correct."

Dean shot up. "Cas, where's Sammy now?"

Cas turned back to the door he'd been staring at. "He has been in the bathroom for the last hour, wondering if what you said last night was an effect of the spell, or if you truly meant it."

Dean tore back the blankets, grabbed a pair of boxers and slipped them on, before turning back to thank the angel, only to find that he'd vanished. Deciding not to think too much on it, he turned back to the door. Striding up to it, he lifted his hand to knock, hesitated then rapped his knuckles on the wood. -It's now or never- he thought. Sam opened the door slowly, keeping his gaze low. Dean let out a growl that made the taller male whip his head up, too shocked to dodge as his brother's hand shot out to cup the nape of his neck, and yank him down for a kiss.

For a brief moment, Sam didn't react, and Dean started to second guess Castiel's words, until Sam lifted his hands to his face to tilt his head to a better angle. When they pulled away, they were both panting and clinging to each other. "I love you, Sammy. I love you in a way that I know I probably shouldn't, but I do anyways. I haven't really thought of you as my brother since you were eight, since you sacrificed your life for mine. I meant what I said last night. I meant it then, and I mean it now. I love you, Sam."

Sam stared at his brother, his mouth slightly open. Dean shifted nervously. "Will you say something? Anything?"

Sam's jaw worked. "Dean, I…" He suddenly slammed Dean into the wall and began kissing him. He punctuated each word with a kiss. "I." Kiss. "Love." Kiss. "You." Kiss. "Too." Kiss, kiss, kiss. When the words finally sank in, a huge smile bloomed on Dean's face, and he began kissing his Sammy back with just as much vigor.

"Sammy. My Sammy. I love you." Dean chanted against his brother's lips, dragging his hands through his hair. "I love you. My Sammy."

"Dean." Sam breathed, tears in his eyes. "I love you too."


	2. From Riches To Ruin

_**From Riches To Ruin**_

Sam and Dean have accepted that their love for each other isn't exactly "normal", but then again, neither are they. One of the perks of moving around so much, of never being in the same place for more than a week is that no one knew them so, as far as everyone else knew, the two men were lovers, not brothers. For a while, they debated on the last name they should use, whether it should be the same or different. Finally, they decided to use the same last name, a name they'd decided on the day before their wedding night. It was simple and generic, so it would be hard to track. They'd decided on the last name Lewis.

Dean woke up first. As he looked around, the night before slowly began to come back to him. As it did, the memory made his body heat, and his cock twitch. Closing his eyes, he let sleep drift over him again, and let the memories flood his mind.

He and Sam had hunted down the Wendigo that had made the fairgrounds its hunting territory; the monster had been storing bodies in the old abandoned haunted house's basement. After torching the motherfucker, freeing the trapped people, giving the cops an anonymous call, and bouncing before they got there, Sam and Dean stopped at a small convenience store on the way back to their motel to get two six packs of beers and some beef jerky. When they got back, they both sat on the couch to eat their jerky, and drink their beer, some random show playing in the background, more white noise than entertainment. Neither man spoke, the both of them more than content with just being in the other's presence, shoes kicked off, and cuddling together. Finally, Sam stood and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm going to go take a shower. Get all this blood and dirt off. Care to join me?"

Dean stared at his brother, his husband of three years running, and warned, "If I enter that shower with you, blood and dirt are not the only things you're going to be washing off." Sam gave a sly grin that grew slowly, sending sparks straight to Dean's cock.

"Oh, I know." He murmured quietly. "So, are you coming?"

Dean swallowed roughly, sooo wanting to say yes and follow his husband into the bathroom like a loyal dog, but he knew neither of them were EVER going get clean if he did, so he shook his head. Sam smirked at his older brother like he knew something that he didn't, but he didn't get to dwell on it for too long before Sam whirled around and headed to the bathroom. Pausing at the doorframe, the younger male looked over his shoulder and said, "Fine, then. I guess I'll have to get wet all. By. My. Self." With that, he turned and closed the door behind him.

Dean sat stiller than a statue as he listened to the shower curtain move, the water turn on, the soft wuffs of clothes hitting the floor. He began to fidget as he heard the curtain move again, and the sound of the water change as Sam's tall, lean body moved under it. Just the thought of his Sammy's body completely exposed, hot, steamy water running down the length of it, making it wet and slick and - Dean jerked to his feet. Taking long, determined strides, he strode toward the bathroom, yanking off his shirt and whipping off his belt, tossing them in random directions. He unbuttoned his pants and kicked it away along with his socks, leaving him in just his boxers. He threw opened the door to find Sam smirking at him from inside the tub.

"Well, it took you long enough." Dean growled low, closing the door behind him.

"Why, you little," he said, stalking over to his husband, and shedding the last of his clothes before stepping into the shower. "Bitch," he finished.

"You're the jerk who made me wait." Sam retorted, watching curiously as Dean stopped the tub with his foot, and switched off the shower head to fill the tub with water.

When it was finally full, coming halfway up their calves, Dean shut off the water, and turned to Sam with an evil glint in his eye, making the taller male shiver in anticipation. He bit his bottom lip as Dean's eyes began to rove over his body, silently contemplating what to do to him that would be the best way to "punish" him for tempting him into the shower. Sam thought that Dean would "punish" him slowly. Boy, was he wrong. He loved being wrong.

Dean's palms shot out and slammed Sam's shoulders into the wall, his hips pinning the taller brother in place as his lips collided almost violently with the other's. Held against the wall with lips and hips, Sam let out a small moan as his husband's hands began to wander, and none too gently. Dean's nails raked down his sides, forcing out a soft gasp, and making Sam arch his spine, moving into the violent touch. "Dean!"

One moment they were standing, the next they were laying down, the water lapping gently at their skin, making it slick and shiny. Sam's breathing hitched sharply when he felt his husband's blunt fingernails scratch at his entrance, the tips slippery with blackberry scented body gel. A little push and Dean's fingers slipped right in, no resistance whatsoever. The older male let out a low groan at this, and hooked a long leg around his waist, wanting, _needing_ to be as close as he possibly could to his baby brother. "Son of a bitch. Holy shit, Sammy." He groaned into the crook of Sam's neck. "You're not even fighting me. I could slide into you right now, no problem; you're so open. So open and ready for me."

Sam smiled with his head tilted back, eyes closed, and dug his nails into Dean's shoulder blades. He lifted his hips, rotating them and pushing down onto his brother's fingers so move them further inside him. "Why would I fight you, Dean? There's a lot of things we fight about, but this? This is something that I will never fight with you about, I promise you. Now, I need you inside me. Please."

Dean chuckled. "So needy." He murmured as he removed his fingers and positioned himself at Sam's entrance. He rubbed the head against his husband's ready hole, and began pushing in. It was that moment when Sam remember the water, and where they were.

"Wait, Dean. Wait! The water! You'll get water-," he cut off with a gasping moan. Dean pushed in all the way, filling Sam with himself and water. The taller male couldn't move; he's never been so full before. "Oh god, Dean. Ah." Sam clung to Dean tightly as he began to move, his face buried in his older brother's neck.

It was slow, gentle movements at first, allowing him to adjust to the new sensation. It felt slightly odd at first, but before Sam knew it, the pressure, and Dean's ever quickening movements, had pleasure flaring through all the way to his fingertips. Soft groans grew into loud moans, and Dean stopped trying to hold back. Pulling back, he slammed into his husband with everything he had. Sam's eyes flew wide as his back arched, blunt nails streaking red on pale skin, his head flung back as he cried out. Dean's hand automatically went to cup the back his baby brother's head, not wanting it to slam into the tub. Mile long legs wrapped themselves around narrow hips as they pulled their bodies closer, water splashing over the edge of the bathtub, but neither in the frame of mind to even think about caring.

Dean swiveled his hips slightly, grinding down hard on the man beneath him, when all of a sudden all of the air in Sammy's lungs whooshed out in a breathless gasp, telling the older brother that he'd just found his husband's prostate. Dean grinned as he turned his hips in a way that had him striking that same spot again and again. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, and let out moaning groans that vibrated all throughout Dean's body, driving him closer to the edge.

"Sammy," he groaned, dropping his head to Sam's, panting into each other's mouth's as their lips crashed together sloppy and perfect, "I'm so close."

"M-me too, Dean. Me too. Please. Please." Sam begged.

"Please, what, baby? What do you want me to do?" he leaned down and kissed Sammy's wet temple.

"Dean, please, please."

"Please, what? Baby, you have to tell me, or else I have no idea what you want me to do."

Sam opened his eyes, hazel colliding with green, and tangled his fingers into Dean's wet hair.

"Bite me." He commanded.

A tremor ran through Dean, the single command causing his eyes to roll back and a moan to escape him. How was he supposed to deny his husband when he asked so nicely? With no warning or foreplay, Dean snapped his head forward and sank his blunt teeth into the crook of his baby brother's neck. Sam's back arched violently and, with moments, was coming between them. With the feeling of his baby brother tightening around him, Dean couldn't stop himself from coming seconds later, deep inside of Sam.

After coming down from their high, dean unplugged the tub with his toes and nuzzled Sammy's neck, whispering in his ear, "I told you that you end up washing more than just blood and dirt off if I ended up joining you."

"Yeah," Sam laughed breathlessly, "but you had so much pent up energy left, I figured I'd help in a way that had both of us satisfied."

Dean pulled back and stared down at the love of his life, and suddenly the picture of Sam dying shot through his mind, which ultimately brought him to think about the Devil. "Hey, Sammy?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you think Lucifer's activities have been a little on the down low lately? Do you think he's planning something?"

Sam sighed, "Probably, but there's nothing we can really do until we know exactly what he's doing, and we can't do that until we know where he is. For now, all we can do is wait for him to show himself."

Dean nodded. "You're right. I should stop focusing on that so much."

A smile showed on his brother's face. "Yeah, you should. You should also clean us up, considering it was you who got us both so dirty."

"What?! You little bitch."

Sam laughed and ran a hand through Dean's hair lovingly. "My perfect jerk."

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"Finally. You took way too long to find. I could've had tons of things done by now." Lucifer griped as he pulled a soul from the depths of Hell. "Now tell me something, demon. If you answer correctly, I'll let you do something for me that could potentially benefit you as well. What do you think of the Winchesters?"

The demon glared at the Archangel and spat, "What's to think about? They betrayed me, and then killed me. Both of them! They worked together to kill me. After everything I did for them. They're ungrateful and worthless. They mean _nothing_ to me."

Lucifer gave a chilling smile. "Perfect. That is _exactly_ what I wanted to hear." He leaned forward and whispered in the demon's ear. "Want to do something for me?"

The demon nodded vigorously. "Of course. You're my God, and you rose me from death. I'll do _anything_ for you. Just say the word."

"I want you to hunt down the Winchesters, and wipe them _off of this planet._ Can you do that for me…Ruby?"

Ruby smiled gleefully, her heart thumping excitedly at the thought of killing Sam and Dean, and getting revenge on what they did to her. "Nothing would make me happier."


End file.
